Touch of Grace
by Jackie Almasy
Summary: They would beg daily to hear more stories about her and her legacy. The stories they hear from the bards do her no justice. So I, Farkas, their father, will do what any parent should never have to do. I will reassure them of the love she carried with her every day to protect, provide, and care for them as she never had... (M for Blood and Violence)


Touch of Grace

By Jackie Almasy

* * *

_Doubt that the stars are fire;_

_Doubt that the sun doth move;_

_Doubt truth to be a liar;_

_But never doubt I love_

-William Shakespeare, _Hamlet, Act II, Sc. 2_

Part 1

"Father, can you tell us more about her, about Mama?"

Farkas, now aged more than fifty winters, looked down at the young girl. His long dark brown hair was now a mixed color of gray and black. Age had been kind to the old warrior. Wrinkles along his forehead showed an age of respect. The strong cheek bones stood prominent among his facial features. The whiter skin was still showed a thin layer of dirt as all proper Nord warriors should have.

However, his facial hair was now a length that could have rivaled Kodlak's back in the gold old days. Setting his goblet of spiced mead down onto the table, the old warrior hummed softly to himself at the question posed by his daughter. Breezehome had not changed much in the years of the children growing within its walls. The alchemy table had since been gotten rid of to expand the room into an adjoining bedroom.

His heavy armor clinked against each other as he leaned back into his seat. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden snapping of his oldest child and only son.

"Be quiet Natasja! Father does not need to hear of your persistent nipping!" Cynric chided his sister harshly. The young man of fourteen winters was the walking image of his mother. Though he had Farkas's chin and jaw structure, his bright brown hair and green eyes was solely his mother's. His son's leather armor shuffled as the belts and metal rings clinked together.

It wasn't his son's words that caused Farkas to frown heavily but the attitude behind it.

"Cynric, that is enough. Do not dishonor your sister so." Farkas commanded from the head of the table, his stern gaze locking eyes with his son.

Cynric eyes widened at his father's words. For a few long seconds, the stern eyes met the fiery defiance of the young man. Inside the old warrior's chest, Farkas felt his heart slightly clench at the passionate insubordination. While he had been a hothead in his youth, it was hard not to see his mother's trait. Her defiance, her attitude, her dedication; it was made him fall in love with her all those years ago and what nearly destroyed him a decade ago.

Cynric finally sighed and moved his gaze down to his food. He pushed the bits of his stew around in the small steel bowl. The equal shine of the spoon to match shimmered in the candlelight. "As you wish Father."

Finally turning back to Natasja, Farkas took a few seconds to gaze at his daughter. Though she was only ten, he could see the smarts of Ysgramor spark in her eyes. She had her grandfather's intelligence but her mother's swiftness. Even now she was more proficient with a bow than he remembered his wife describing her own childhood memories. She could hit a rabbit with ease and on the family steed, deer and foxes stood no chance.

Natasja tilted her head in curiosity and smiled. Her brown eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief. How her mother would have loved to see her grow up. Farkas smirked and chuckled deeply.

"What is it Father? What is so funny?" Natasja asked.

"Nothing young cub, nothing important. Just something your mother told me a long time ago." Farkas reminisced more than he meant to. It was everything young girl needed to be hooked.

"What did she use to say Father? Tell me please!" She begged as she pushed her soup bowl away. Farkas had done it now.

"Not today Natasja…" Farkas stood from the table and grabbed his two handed sword leaned up against the wall. With ease and precision he attached the sword to his back and turned to bid farewell to his children for the day when he stopped dead in his tracks. Natasja was now glaring and her brown eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"It's not fair!" Natasja suddenly screamed, standing up so quickly that her chair toppled over. "You never talk about her! You never tell me anything about my mother!"

"Natasja, lower your voice!" Cynric suddenly stood up and commanded. "You always put your nose where it does not belong little sister! When are you going to learn?"

"That is enough you two!" Farkas's voice stated but was not heeded.

"Why is it so bad of me to want to learn more about my own mother Cynric! You at least got to have memories of her! I don't even remember her face!" Natasja yelled as the tears began to fall.

"How could you? You were barely one winter old when she died! How is that my fault?" Cynric pushed on, his temper and tone rising to a dangerous level.

"I said knock it off!" Farkas commanded with a stricter tone as he stepped foreword to the table.

"You always get everything that belonged to her! Her armor, her swords, and even her rings!" Natasja yelled before letting the dam burst. "YOU NEVER SHARE ANYTHING OF HERS! I HATE YOU!"

"**I SAID ENOUGH!**" Farkas's voice boomed throughout the house, Before he could stop himself, he brought his fist down onto the table with such a force that some of the wooden beams snapped instantly. His children suddenly stopped in terror. They rarely ever saw him angry and when he was, blood normally was spilled.

"Cynric is the first born and it is his right to obtain your mother's armor and sword! I have told you many times that when the time comes, I shall pass on what she left to you. Not a day before! Do not fight over your mother's keepsakes like rats bickering over bits of meat! I will not stand for it, by Ysgramor's beard do you understand me?!"

Silence rang over the three family members like a dark cloud. The tension was high and about to snap. Natasja turned and grabbed her elven bow and quiver of arrows. Before Farkas could say anything to stop her, the young cub was out of the house and slamming the door shut.

He sighed heavily as he quickly stated dominantly, "Cynric!" The young man stopped running for the door to look back at his father in disbelief. "Leave your sister alone! I will find and talk to her!"

"But father," Cynric interjected.

"Do as I command boy!" Farkas snapped before looking up. What caught Cynric off guard was not the hate in his father's eyes but the hurt that reflected deeply within them.

"I shall go talk to her. You must attend your Uncle's lessons up at Jorrvaskr."

Feeling that defiance creep up again, Cynric sheathed his long sword in its scabbard before glaring back and coldly stating, "As you command Father."

Walking out the door and slamming it behind him as well, Farkas was left in the empty and horrible silence of the house. Running a hand through his salt and pepper hair, Farkas let out a shaky breath as he looked down onto his left hand. Against the aging and dirty skin of the warrior, a silver ring caught his eyes.

"Katia, please guide me in teaching our children. I am trying…"

* * *

Cynric just barely caught the edge of the long iron sword descending upon his chest in time. Gritting his teeth at the strength behind the attack, Cynric attempted a bold move by catching the edge of the sword in between the long metal decorative snares on his arm. Catching the opponent off guard, Cynric thrusted the sword down into the ground and attempted to punch his opponent.

Only managing to hit air, Cynric felt his blood boil at the laughter of his Uncle Vilkas filling the air.

His heavily accented voice cut through the air like a pair of knives. "Is that all you got Cynric?! Come on! At least make me break a sweat lad!"

Catching the young man off guard by tripping his feet, Vilkas easily grabbed the sword out of the ground and spun it skillfully between his fingers. The weight of the sword felt off by a few grams but that is what he expected of a sword not forged from Skyforge. His graying hair was the only reminder of his years of fifty or more winters.

Though age was not on his side, his skills did not lack from the years and years of training in his youth. He grinned at the memories of the tests and matches he had fought with his previous Harbinger.

Holding out his hand, Cynric glared at him a second before accepting the help up. Backing up a few steps, Cynric took the position his uncle had taught him years ago and held the blade up. Waiting for the right moment, Vilkas grinned and lifted his hand. Beckoning the lad, Cynric felt the last of his patience snap.

Rushing foreword in rage and arrogance, Vilkas's smile suddenly turned into a heavy and angry frown. With a skill and speed the young man had never seen Vilkas possess the warrior in a manner of five moves sent Cynric's sword flying, receive a punch to the face, fall down, and have the tip of the sword held to his throat.

Groaning at the shock of the power behind the punch, Cynric could feel two hot streams of blood running down from his nose but did not move. Moving his gaze from the sword to Vilkas, his angry frown suddenly stopped at the look on his opponents face.

"Never attack an opponent in hatred and fury boy. You will only loose your head. Is that understood?" Vilkas questioned as if to the air. Watching Cynric eyeball the sword once more before finally nodding, Vilkas brought the sword away and began walking to the sword rack.

"That is enough for today." The warrior announced as he sheathed the sword in the wood, turning back to look at Cynric slowly getting up. "You're not paying attention anyway."

"My apologies Uncle…" Cynric sighed as he sheathed his own sword back into its scabbard. Walking to the steps, Cynric grabbed a nearby cloth and wiped the blood away from his face. "My mind is not my own today."

"Bah!" Vilkas said out loud as he joined his nephew at the nearby table. Sitting down in the old wooden chair, Vilkas poured himself a goblet full of mead. "The only one you can blame for not being focused is you Cynric!"

"Yes Uncle…" The young lad sighed in agreement as he looked out into the training yard. Not much had changed from the day he was born. The old walls of Whiterun still ran along the training yards and the tall castle of Dragonsreach was still the most prominent feature of the town.

If anything, it had remained the same since the death of his mother.

Looking lost in thought, Cynric gasped as he suddenly saw a small goblet thrusted in front of his face. Looking to his Uncle in confusion, Cynric questioned his gesture. "For me Uncle?"

"I'm not offering it to anyone else here boy." Vilkas stated.

"Are-Are you sure?" Cynric still questioned.

"Aye, that I am lad. Just do not tell your father. He will have my head on a pike if I told him I was allowing his son to drink before his sixteenth winter." Vilkas grinned at the end of his statement as he watched the young man's smirk return to his face. Watching his nephew take the goblet, he laughed heartedly at the coughing and gagging of his first sip of mead.

Slapping his back once, Vilkas grinned and leaned back into his own chair. "That'll give you some chest hair lad! Soon you'll be a man and ready to train your own apprentice."

A few minutes of silence fell between them before Vilkas noticed the distant gaze return to his nephew's face.

"Tell me Cynric, what is troubling you today? You were as effective with a sword today as a babe with a twig."

Embarrassed with just how distracted he had been, Cynric eventually sighed and gave in. He had to tell someone and it might as well be his uncle.

"Natasja asked Father about Mother again this morning and as usual, he refuses to discuss her." Cynric let out. "I don't understand Uncle. He won't talk about her unless we corner him or he is drunk."

Vilkas continued to stare out into the courtyard before sighing himself.

"I am not surprised at my brother's actions. Your mother…" Vilkas seemed to stop in midsentence as if to think of what was were the best words to choose. "Your mother was a gift from Talos, Cynric. I did not believe it until much later in life after she joined our Companions but now that I look back, she truly was."

"Mother was the Dragonborn?" Cynric questioned although he already knew the answer.

"Yes. Katia was the last Dragonborn of legend. She arrived in the middle of a horrible civil war that was ravaging Skyrim of her land, her people, and her peace. Even amidst such horrific atrocities, she saved us from an ancient dragon who sought to end our world, Alduin." Vilkas began softly.

Cynric listened carefully and intently. He had never heard this much of his mother's history before. He had only been told what he learned through bard songs, history books, and private tutoring lessons. "Was mother a dragon slayer?"

"Not by choice lad…" Vilkas looked over and met Cynric's green eyes. "Your mother did not like shedding blood needlessly. I was with your mother on a mission when a dragon of deep blue and flames of the coldest ice attacked. We were caught off guard and ill-prepared. It was the first time I saw your mother use the legendary power given so easily to the Dragonborns. She used her voice to take the beast down and send him crashing into the ground."

He continued, "The winged creature hit the ground and the earth shook with a massive force. I lost my footing within seconds but your mother never fell. As she killed the beast by driving her sword through its skull, she recoiled in a horror that I had never seen from her before. The body started to burst into flames but unlike any flames I had ever seen. They came from within and the scales and flesh of the monster disintegrated. Your mother looked at me with a look of dread and before I could catch her, she fell to her knees."

"The flames suddenly surrounded her and grew in speed. Her hair and clothes swirled with a speed unlike anything I had ever seen before and just as quickly as it began, it ended. The flames entered the body of your mother and she began throwing up. I have never seen her tremble with such horror before."

Cynric's eyes were wide with amazement as the knowledge he was learning. Taking a long sip of the mead, the young lad took in a deep breath and asked the question he had wanted answered his whole life.

"How did my mother die Uncle?"

He watched as his uncle's eyes grew distant and sad. Leaning foreword, Vilkas brought his gloved hands tightly together. Leaning foreword against his knees, the older warrior seemed to think hard for a few minutes before slowly beginning.

"I promised your father I would never speak of this again. It is a memory I wish I could erase from my mind. I can still remember it like it was yesterday, even though it has been over ten years…"

* * *

_Katia and Farkas lead the small team of Companion leaders down the narrow stone road. The hills of the surrounding Skyrim landscape towered over them, the peaks of the cliffs hidden by the rolling fog and drizzling rain. The rain hit their warm skin with a tiny ice cold punch, signaling that high above them snow must be falling. Katia was at the head of the group, scouting ahead with her trained hunter's eye._

_Not far from the stone road they walked upon, one of the numerous mighty rivers made its way through the stony cliffs. The roar of the rushing waters echoed throughout the landscape and it was then that Farkas noticed his wife a little more at ease. _

"_Is everything alright dear?" Farkas asked softly. _

_Looking back over her shoulder, Katia smiled and nodded. "Hmm… There is nothing to worry about husband. I was just taking a minute to enjoy the sound of the water."_

_Coming up beside her, Farkas placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Leaning in, Farkas placed a quick but gentle kiss on her temple. It was at the sign of affection that Katia took a moment to sigh openly._

"_Do you think Cynric and the baby are alright with Lydia? I probably should not have left her side so soon. She is only four moon cycles old…"_

_Aela's voice from behind chimed in, taking in note of her Harbinger's worry. "Though she may not be a Companion, Lydia is one of the Jarl's finest warriors. The cubs are safe with her and if not, she will answer to me personally."_

_Vilkas stopped at her side, lifting a strong hairy eyebrow in her direction. "Since when do you care so much for my nephew and niece Aela? You are gone most of the time on your "hunts."_

"_Watch your tongue Vilkas. I care for the little ones just as much as you, perhaps more. You men are not as attune to children as women are anyways." Aela snapped back. The challenging but playful grin that spread over her face brought a smirk to Katia's lips. Chuckling, she turned back to face them._

"_I am glad that my children have such strong guardians. It warms my heart to know that should anything happen to me, they will have their father and you both." Katia commented with a strong tone of appreciation in her voice. Her long brown curls were tied back into a strong ponytail, keeping all of her rebellious strands away from her face._

_A small scar ran along her left cheek, ending near the beginning of her upper lip. It had been there since Farkas had met her all those years ago. When she had first walked through the doors of Jorrvaskr, he never had imagined that she would change not only his life but that of everyone within the Companions._

_Her strong demeanor is what had attracted him to her in the first place. He had watched the duel between Vilkas and her at Kodlak's request. It had proven to be a very entertaining hour. Multiple times his brother had caught the woman off guard and knocked her to her feet. However, she had been equally competitive and gotten right back up with a speed he had seen only a few Nords possess. It had caught Vilkas by surprise and the final blow to seal her admittance into the Companions had been her disarming him with a hidden dagger._

_Vilkas, being the stubborn Nord he was, did not admit to the defeat but merely shrugged it off in a gruff manner. He had admitted to her skills but still called her 'whelp' out of sheer arrogance. It was a good four months before Farkas saw his brother and his future wife sharing a drink with each other near the Jorrvaskr._

_It had been a calendar year later, a month after Kodlak's death, that Farkas had determined his love for Katia. As she stood deep in the Tomb of Ysgramor, covered in blood and sweat after freeing his spirit from Hircine's curse, that he knew he wanted to make her his. The small smile of hope in his direction had made him lower his sword and before he knew it, he had gathered her in his arms and kissed her._

_It was weeks later after Farkas had asked for her hand in marriage that she admitted to the kiss being the first thing in her life to genuinely surprise her. 'Talos himself could have appeared before me and that wouldn't have shocked me more than you coming in and kissing the breath out of me,' she had reminisced to him._

_Farkas grunted at her last sentence. "Nothing is going to happen to you my dear."_

_Katia was about to say something when off in the distance, laughter caught her attention. Sharply turning foreword, Katia squinted her eyes to gaze through the fog. A soft breeze flew by a few seconds later and moved the fog enough to show a large stone structure in the distance._

_Two large stone towers from wars long past in Skyrim stood erect against the cliff sides. According to reports given in the job description, both towers consisted of about three levels of stairs and rooms. Connecting the two great buildings was a long stone bridge adorned with strong gargoyles of mighty dragons. It served as the focal point for the hideout, a den of thieves and highwaymen that has been stealing and terrorizing traders for months._

_A bounty had been offered for the destruction of the band of thieves and Katia was determined to prove the Companions worth all throughout Skyrim._

"_Alright everyone, as we agreed. Aela, scout ahead and use the landscape to your advantage." Motioning to the cliff side along the road, a large stone jutted out and was just enough for Aela to use as a vantage point for her archery. "You know what to do shield sister."_

_Grinning at Katia, Aela used the fog coverage and ran towards the cliff side. With a strength that Katia still managed to forget she had every now and then, Aela used the strength of her inner wolf to climb up the steep rock. She still retained the werewolf curse and for a couple days every month, Aela would disappear into the wilderness of Skyrim to give into the need to hunt and feast._

_Kneeling down, Katia silently grabbed the hilt of her long sword while motioning to Farkas and Vilkas behind her to move silently but swiftly. The laughter and murmuring of conversation began to grow stronger over the background noise of the flowing river rapids._

"_Can you believe the fool bought our road tax story?" A gruff voice suddenly chimed in. The light of a fireplace and aromas of cooking drifted through the wind._

_Two sets of laughter echoed after the statement from the first highwayman. "Saps them all are I say! We made thirty silver pieces off of those idiots!"_

"_Boss will be pleased with this." A low and composed Khajjit voice added in. "Khajjit also managed to snag a ruby necklace from his wagon without him looking."_

_Katia took the back of the advancing group and nodded to Vilkas. Silently lifting three fingers to him, she motioned foreword and he grinned in acknowledgment. She watched the warrior take into account the direction and speed of the wind and without warning, he suddenly took off as a roaring breeze rushed through the land._

_Katia and Farkas were right behind him and soon a clash of steel and blood commended. Vilkas took on a large Redguard male, managing to cut off half of the man's right arm before dodging a miscalculated swing as the thief screamed in pain. The two handed master chopped off the man's head with a skilled swing before kicking the corpse over. It fell backwards and landed on the fire, sending the large iron cooking pot over and spilling the stew contents all over the ground._

_Katia and Farkas took on a pair of Khajjit and Nord thieves. They were quicker to react and soon Katia was defending her husband's back with her long sword and daedric dagger she drew from her leather belt. Gritting under the surprising strength of the woman, Katia held the X formation of her sword and dagger before suddenly rushing foreword. A few skilled blocks were made but Katia got the best of the Nord woman by cutting through the woman's leather leggings with the dagger. Thrusting the dagger down into her upper thigh, the screams of pain were quickly cut off by Katia's sword slitting her throat._

_The high pitched whirring of an arrow flying by her head made Katia snap her attention over her shoulder. Another Nord thief took a few steps back, gurgling at the blood flooding in his throat at the arrow lodged deep into his neck. Falling over, Katia grinned back in the direction of Aela before rushing into the first of the two stone towers._

_The two brothers were quick to join her as she quickly became overwhelmed on the stairs up to the stone bridge. Doing more blocking and dodging than landing hits, Katia grunted and gritted her teeth._

"_Farkas!" Katia screamed as she quickly threw her daedric dagger into the forehead of the nearest thief. Bringing her hand back, she held on tight as her husband suddenly took her hand and swung her to the side as hard as he could. Katia held on for all of her might and began twisting her body. Suddenly behind the seemingly unbreakable wall that the two handed master brothers were, Katia took a moment to breathe as watched them begin chopping down the thieves left and right._

_The bridge was not far off now, just outside the large open room that they now entered. The large opening of the door to the bridge channeled in the cold wintery wind blowing around the structure and even in the midst of the battle, their bodies were chilled. Grabbing the dagger from the skull of her victim, Aela quickly rejoined the group and looked upwards._

'_There is an opening in the ceiling above! I am going to scout ahead and deal with any stragglers on the bridge. Katia!" Aela called out. Turning to the wall, the huntress grabbed the elven bow leaning against the broken table. Tossing it to her Harbinger, Katia caught it and the quiver of about ten arrows with ease.  
_

"_Just in case." Alea stated before running up the stairs to the vantage point. Vilkas taking the left side of the door opening and Katia on the right, she adjusted the bow as best as she could against her sword scabbard before peeking out. Shouting and swearing was coming from the direction of the other tower._

_She briefly caught a glimpse of a heavy armored man making his way down from the top of the tower across the bridge. That must be the leader._

"_How many Katia?" Farkas asked quickly, adjusting his grip on his two handed sword._

"_I count six but there is always more rats hiding in those damn hallways." Katia cursed. Sheathing her sword, Katia took the bow and notched an arrow into the string. Quickly looking around the corner, the warrior pulled back with a strong grip and let the arrow fly. It hit the middle of a leather armored Argonian and was quickly finished off by another arrow to the head from Aela._

_Though she knew her skills with a bow and arrow weren't as advanced as Aela, her shield sister had taught her well how to aim and shoot. Letting loose another arrow, the archery lessons from her fellow companion paid off as it struck another thief in the heart. Running foreword onto the bridge, Katia was taken by surprise when an arrow from the opposite end of the bridge hit her in the left shoulder. Crying out in susprise, she stumbled back a few steps into the arms of Farkas. Feeling his strong grip on her arms, she grabbed onto the arrow and ripped it out._

"_I'm okay! It's a shallow wound!" Katia quickly eased him as she followed behind Vilkas who had taken the lead. Switching out her weapons, the three warriors fought their way through the ranks of the thief's band._

_It was Farkas who made the final blow on the leader that the warriors finally felt they could relax. Vilkas and Aela were in the lower levels of the second tower. Katia climbed up the steps to the top of the tower, panting heavily as she looked over at her husband kicking the corpse of the former thief leader off of his sword and over the side of the building._

_He sheathed his sword quickly and turned his attention to the small arrow wound on his wife's shoulder. It was small but deep and needing stitches. Her armor was soaked with the red blood of her bleeding wound._

"_I am fine Farkas." Katia reassured him, smiling as she raised a hand to his cheek. Running her fingers up and down his skin, she felt his beard stubble._

_Farkas looked up into her eyes and frowned heavily. He grunted before finally sighing and leaning his face momentarily into her hand before taking it and lightly kissing the palm._

"_I will go check on my brother and Aela. Come down when you are ready." Farkas stated before walking down the steps, his armor clinking with each downward motion._

_Smirking to herself, Katia stepped foreword to look among the belongings of the thief as she suddenly stopped. From the distance, it came slowly and grew stronger over the wind and sounds of the water rapids below them. Turning her attention to the distance, Katia squinted her eyes and looked through the fog._

_The shadows of the mountain sides and jagged rocks changed every moment in the shifting of the fog. She listened carefully to the wind. Nothing out of the ordinary caught her attention._

"_Maybe it was just my imagination." Katia whispered to herself. It was then that the silence was suddenly shattered by the sounds of beating wings upon the air and the deafening roar of an ancient winged creature._

_Katia's voice cried out._

"_DRAGON!"_

* * *

Part 1 of 2 is done. This originally was going to be one long story but I decided to split it up for sake of ease.

This is a tragedy and family themed story. Farkas has always been an interesting NPC to read about. I wanted to take a shot at writing about him.

Please tell me what you think.

Musical Inspiration:

_Zoe Jane_ by Staind (Farkas and Daughter Inspiration)  
_Cat's in the Cradle_ by Harry Chapin (Farkas and Son Inspiration)  
_Promise of a Lifetime_ by Kutless (Farkas and Dragonborn Inspiration)

Till next time,  
Jackie Almasy

Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim is copyrighted by Bethesda Softworks and Bethesda Game Studios. I own nothing.


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